


The Queen of Suits

by Ozymanreis



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Hold My Hand, M/M, Suits, Westwood, drama queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1716425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozymanreis/pseuds/Ozymanreis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I swear, we have this existential crisis every time you lose <i> anything.</i>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Queen of Suits

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #35: Hold My Hand

"This is it, you know." Moriarty states calmly, "The final problem." It's a dreary day, the air still and muggy. Jim is pouting on the couch at 221B, Sherlock trying to comfort his lamenting boyfriend. 

"Quit being such a drama queen." Sherlock rolls his eyes, "I told you not to wear that jacket to the pool." Clearly, after three hours, he's had enough. 

"Did _not_!" Jim whines, petting the chlorine bleached speckles on his favorite suit. 

"I did! I said, 'Hey, Jim, you probably shouldn't take your most expensive designer clothes to a place that's essentially made of harsh chemicals and is really slippery.' You then proceeded to tell me it was _fine_ and that nothing could ever happen to your things because you're so awesome." Sherlock casts his partner an exasperated look, "Then guess what? You slipped."

Jim's scowl was beyond scathing, "Well it's never happened _before_."

"It only really takes the once, doesn't it?" 

"Well you could at least be a little nicer about it… what if that coat you're always sporting got damaged in _your_ line of work, hmmm?"

"I'd get another one." 

Jim stuck out his bottom lip, faking sniffles, "You have no _sentiment_."

"For clothes, no." Sherlock sighs, "For people, mostly no." 

"I bet you'd just get another _me_ too." 

"Jim, you're being _ridiculous_." 

"Am I?"

"Ugh. You will _not_ compare yourself to your suit."

"But we're the same person!"

"It's a suit!" 

"It's _meeeee_." 

"Yes, but I love _you_ , not the suit." 

"How do I know you love me for _me_ , and not my fashion sense… or that you're trying to eliminate my criminal web?"

"I swear, we have this existential crisis every time you lose _anything_."

"Answer me!" 

"Because, _dear_ , a suit cannot challenge me the way you do." 

Sherlock stands them up and drags Moriarty to the kitchen, "It's time, Jim." 

"Will you… hold my hand?" It feels daft to say the words, but Sherlock doesn't seem to mind, obligingly entwining their fingers. 

Jim uses his free hand to place his beloved Westwood jacket in the garbage, "Goodnight, sweet prince."

 


End file.
